I had been driving from Illinois to both coasts with several great friends many times over and over. It started the summer I was 17. Let's go. Let's move. That was our element. By the summer of 1986, I was 20 years old and an interstate veteran. Many trips in winter and summer. Drive all night. Few hours at the rest area and keep going. I decided that summer to take a long trip on back roads with my CX500. Epic fail at the Mississippi. Wound up back home the next night. That Fall, I sold the CX and got into a barely used KZ1000. Woohoo! Man, what a rush and what a bike.
So in the summer of 1987, I loaded up the KZ and headed out solo. Travel on a very small budget was not new. Solo on a bike was.
There was a lot to learn and obstacles to overcome including bloody shells, sunburn, a town that was eventually destroyed, bike "accident," stranded in the high desert, canyon rides - on bike and in 1950's truck, sleeping with Native Americans, bitten by a dog named Bullet, a live birth, mechanical problems, the old man in St Francis, plenty of folks to meet, and miles to make. Sounds like just about any other ride, huh?
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| Today |
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| 21 years old in 1987 |
Leaving Bloomington, Illinois at around noon, I had a whole bunch of camping stuff, some dry food, a camera with 24 pictures, and very little cash. This time, I knew I wasn't going to turn around at the Mississippi. I was determined to get out there. I remember the weather being cool for Summer and the bike just riding great. Crossing the river always adds some great hills to the roads.
On this day it was in Keokuk. I remember that the downtown reminded me of Ludington, MI, a town where I have spent a lot of time. Rode all the way to Mexico that day. Mexico, MO, that is, and learned a great lesson talking to an officer there in town.
"Where ya headed?"
"Out West."
"Nice bike."
"Thanks"
"Fast?"
"OH YEAH! ... er, it's ok. Sir, is there free camping around here?"
"Sure, just go up this way to the city park."
"OK to start a fire to cook a few dogs?"
"No problem."
"OK to fish there?"
"Sure."
Drum roll please ..... "Ok to buy a quart?"
"Sure... enjoy your stay."
Throughout the Midwest, throughout all subsequent trips and all those years, I always headed for the small town police station to find free camping. Never denied ... ever. Another strategy I learned later was to head for the county seat because they had the fairgrounds. Unfortunately, in a few days, I would find out the hard way that similar logic does not apply out West.
Time for a pic, though this is out of place by a day from the following morning in Greensburg, KS.
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| Taken by a very nice lady on her morning walk. |
Leaving Mexico in the morning the roads were great. I got to the wonderful area by Lake Ozark enjoying the rolling hills and traffic free roads. Oh my. What is all that? Shock and disbelief. Strewn across several miles of road were thousands of turtles. Kind of. Some were turtles and would slowly get up to move just as a I passed. Scary stuff and certainly NOT safe. But many were bloody shells caught being too slow by some random auto.
So, the lesson was that riding next to bloody shells was ok because they didn't move, Live turtles, however, do move and scare the heck out of you. But what are you to do? There were just SO many.
As the day went on, I remember being beat from the wind, tired, and sunburned. I am sure I was dehydrated, but simply didn't know better. Pulling over at a road side table, I remember laying on my side on the bench looking at the wind waving the Kansas wheat fields. 24 years ago, and I still remember feeling and hearing the breeze blow by me then waving the wheat for at least a mile stretch up a slight hill. One breeze and wave at a time. If we had cell phones then, I probably would have called someone. But, somethings are best experienced alone. Never told about that til now.
Got back on the bike with a real decision. Keep West or back East? Easy call. Rode the rest of the day to Kingman, KS, a county seat.
At the sheriff station: Free? Yes. Fire for Food? Yes. Fishing? No Lake. A quart or two? No problem.
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| A little stealthy. |
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| Bike shot with the Rodeo Ring in the back. |
Since it had been a few days, I checked in with my wife (girlfriend at the time). Bad news. My best friend's dad died two days ago - remember, I had no cell and this was the first check in. No way I'd get to Chicago for tomorrow AM service. Great friends - I wound up being his best man and he mine. I can't get past the fact that I felt as though I let him down in some way. But he knew and I knew, there was just no way. Though a business owner by day, his dad also DJ'd a late night jazz show in Chicago and was known as Count BJ. He got to hang with many of the greats. That was a decade before real internet. If you search, you'll still find things about him. Obviously, our pseudo jam band (wasn't even a genre then) was pretty bad by comparison. But, he was always supportive and nice about it. Great guy.
And so it was. By the time I got to Greensburg, KS it was still morning and I was in full geek mode. First, I saw a local coffee shop that looked busy. No better way to get to know your surroundings than that or the local AM station if driving by in a car. Then, came a sign for a really big well and a 1,000 lb space rock. Please, how can one resist?
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| The story |
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| A real travel shot |
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| Big space rock |
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| Heart of the US |
With all these goofy pictures of the well and the rock, Greensburg always stayed in my memories. It was a great morning, and I met some really nice folks ... like that lady who took my picture that I posted earlier. Just people living their lives in a peaceful, well kept place. The morning coffee shop was vibrant. Much laughing and joking and being nice to the odd looking transient youth that showed up on that day. I have never been back, but the town holds great memories from just that one morning.
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| The aftermath - ap photo |
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| Covering from the sun |
Since I got so burned the day before, I really had to cover up. Though I wear one now, that is the only time I remember wearing a helmet in those days other than a state making me or the Illinois weather causing me to.
We're not in Kansas anymore. Oh no. The fields gave way to dry and hot. Crossing from Liberal into Oklahoma, I remember being hot hot hot. Still didn't know about hydration. Days of being beaten by wind and sun coupled with full leather jacket, helmet, and heat today caused a bad and unsafe situation.
So, here's the deal. I was hot. I went to a roadside table to pull over a rest. As I rode to a stop, I simply failed to hold up the bike and let it drop. I didn't forget to hold it up. I didn't forget to lower the kick stand. I simply didn't. So, pretty dumb move that must have been funny to watch. Eventually, I got it back up and rested in the shade. Took a pic since it was righted and had the backdrop of Oklahoma Panhandle State University.
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| Got that top heavy thing back upright. |
It was around here that I started realizing that if your gonna ride in the heat all day, you better drink something. I don't remember bottled water being prevalent then - or if it was, I couldn't come to terms with paying for it. So, I chugged a Gatorade and kept refilling that thing with water the rest of the trip.
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| No sir. |
Never much cared for Texas, but now re hydrated, this sign seemed funny. And the day changed with all the fluids. Another great roadside park.
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| Cooling off |
Tucumcari was a goal I set looking at the atlas that morning. Mostly, because I was in a band that played "Willing," a song that speaks romantically about the town. I was glad to be pushing into it with plenty of daylight left.
So, I hit the town center and stopped in for a cold one. Well, no romanticism here. I thought something cool was awaiting me, but this was just a dark, smelly juke joint on a bright afternoon. Got out and looked around town and didn't seem to find any better prospects, so headed for the atlas.
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| Goal for the Day |
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| I should have sent this in to Kawasaki for the KZ brochure. Riding Dirt. |
Picked out a route heading north through several tiny towns. Left Tucumcari with the weather cooling and the sun getting lower. The roads were awesome and some of the best canyon riding I have ever done with golden sunlight making everything glow. I remember just pouring into the gas climbing up the mesas on the switchbacks on a fast bike performing flawlessly. Awesome. Well, started thinking gas and noticed that all these little towns on the atlas were not towns. A few were just ranches. Some that were towns were so small that there was no gas station.
At one stop, I pulled in to a maybe gas station off a dirt road. It was out of business. But I saw a rattle snake on the other side of the road from me! How cool is that. Just started rattling at me. After a while I figured I was a bit too close, so restarted the engine, and he took off in the other direction.
Gas was an issue. So was sleeping. I haven't seen a nice Midwestern town park in a long time. Now, add the irrational rattler fear for the night, and I'm wondering how the warmth of my sleeping bag might seem to him. When I got to Roy, NM, it was dark out. Gas station is functional, but closed for the night. There is a larger town named Springer down the road. 46 miles away. I leave Roy thinking that if I can get 20 miles before hitting reserve, I'll go for it, conserve fuel and might make it. Wrong. Less than a mile from Roy and I get the cough cough wheez wheez, hit reserve and turn back. What to do?
In Roy there was a weird hotel type of thing with a "cot room." I think it was a restaurant too. I don't remember much about it. I don't know, the place smelled and this mad looking woman gave me a price that I just wasn't going to pay. I really didn't know what I was going to do. As I was getting on the bike, I heard a pack of dogs coming. Wild dogs? Loose dogs? Friendly? Sharp, shiny teeth? Didn't want to find out. Hurried to the old school glass phone booth. Got in to call my wife as the dogs started sniffing around the bike looking at me.
As I hang up, three guys pull up in an old pickup and the dogs leave.
"Were you at the (hotel / cot thing)?"
"Yeah, no money though" I wanted to make it clear I had no cash. Some lame excuse about having to get to Springer so my girlfriend can wire me funds. "Need gas."
"We know the owner. We can go get him."
"Great."
They come back and no dude in sight. He was out. So, the older guy said I could stay with him tonight. They also said they were not allowed in the store over there, but if I went in, they would pitch in for a case of cold ones. I added another 12 (just enough for that and gas), and we went to Billy's house to park the bike and go for a drive. Cool...
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| Billy in the morning |
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| Jasper and Billy's Nephew |
Billy's nephew was here living with him and his wife, and Jasper was his friend. There was work here because the state was building fences along the roads.
We got straight into that pickup (yes, four across) and just started driving. One thing led to another. They are Indian, though I think Billy said something about being part Mexican. We wound up taking a road with insanely tight turns going down to the Canadian River canyon. I remember they kept throwing cans out the window saying the "old people" pick them up for money.
Down in the canyon, it was the darkest I have ever seen. On about a 60 degree angle to all sides was wall. The opening straight above was a moonless night crazy with stars. Billions and billions of stars. Hours later, after talking, illegally dumping cans, and becoming brothers, we headed back. On the way up the tight switchbacks, Jasper got mad talking about the Indian's plight. He started driving right into the canyon wall so the lights could show me his land that was taken from him. Pretty heavy moment. Still think about that.
Back at the house, Jasper left. We walk in quietly to not wake up Billy's wife. I had my hands in my front jeans pocket. As he turned on the light, his dog Bullet, who just had a litter, ran at me, jumped up and bit my right hand through my jeans. Alright, welcome to the house. The jeans helped. Skin was broken, but Bullet drew no blood ... this time.
I slept on the couch across the room from the couch Billy's nephew was using. Morning came too soon. These guys had to go to work. Billy's wife had fed the stove some wood and started cooking breakfast. On my way to the out house - yes, no indoor plumbing, I saw that his wife was the mad woman from the hotel thing! And she looked even more mad now! I bet she wished she would have shot me a lower price on the room.
She may not have liked me being there, but she made the best tortilla, eggs, and steak, with home made sauces. Perfect for what we needed.
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| Billy's house complete with peacock - you can see Bullet by the door. |
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| The guys going off to work |
Filled up at the gas station and headed for Colorado
Crossing into Colorado, the beautiful weather and snow caps in the distance were an excellent motivator to keep moving. I thought I was hearing something odd with the bike, but just kept rolling.
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| Welcome to distant snow caps |
On the way to the mountains, I saw a group of cows in the field - but something caught my eye. It looked like something kind of fell out of a kneeling cow. As she stood, I could see a new born calf, laying there at her feet, and the afterbirth was still hanging from her.
Stopping, I took this pic, and it wound up being the final exposure in the roll.
I spent the day riding the mountains. I love driving through the Rockies. Always have. But it was so much more of an experience doing it on two wheels. What a great day of riding. The bike was responding perfectly, but there was that noise...
Looking at the atlas, I set a goal of some hot springs in Wyoming. As I got closer, I believe Walden, CO, I talked with some folks about the Wind River hot springs. They said, not to bother going all the way to Wind River since there were free springs in Saratoga Wy. Following this advice was one of the best decisions of the trip.
The hobo springs in Saratoga are great because there is a pool built around the springs. A little too hot for me. Not to fear, it spills into the North Platte river. By arranging the rocks, you can create a perfect mix of hot spring water and cold river water. Like hot and cold faucets.
To camp, I was directed to the Snowy Mountain Range. Set up a stealth camp site to avoid a fee and started riding the mountain roads. Golden light of the setting sun and behold, Medicine Bow peak. It reached out and grabbed me. Pulled me in with a strength that remains today. I have probably been there ten times in my life. Low numbers of tourists, easily attainable summit, snow caps all year round, and a piece of my heart. It is my favorite place on this earth.
I chose to camp at a higher altitude to ensure a cool evening. In the morning, I remember riding out through the pass again and seeing a still moist with dew moose crossing right in front of me. He crossed into a meadow, so I stopped and watch him for quite a while. I remember him shining in the early morning sun and being the richest, wettest color of chocolate I have ever seen.
Well the noise was the chain. It was my first long trip on this bike, and I had no idea that chain lube was a must have item. I started heading towards home and hoping for a town with a cycle shop. Nothing. The day was hot back in the lower altitudes and the chain was getting louder and louder. This was not good. The chain was certainly going to self destruct. For all I knew, it was ruined.
Crossed into Kansas at St Francis and saw the coolest city park, former rest area that allowed for free camping. I set up my tent not knowing what to do about a new chain. Wouldn't you know it, along rides an elderly man on an ancient CB and a sparkly blue helmet. A short piece I wrote about the old man in St Francis and our three year relationship can be found here: The old Man in St Francis.
The short version is that he had chain lube and that fixed my problem. Knowing this great little free camp park, my trip to the Pacific the following summer brought me here too. I stopped by to see him again and we enjoyed a few hours talking. The two years later heading out west, I came back by to see him yet again. His wife told me he had died. It is a pretty memorable part of my motorcycle touring life at that time and the story about him kind of sums it up.
I woke up in the morning, had a cup of coffee with the old man, and started heading home. The trip was pretty much over then. Even though the chain was taken care of, my mind was heading east. A great night of free camping at the lake in Centerville, IA, and I was home the following night.
What a great trip. Although I didn't take many pictures, I took even fewer on subsequent trips - didn't even bring a camera on some. But having these pictures is a mini treasure, and it probably explains why I take so many pictures now in the digital era.
To me, the essence of any motorcycle trip is the same regardless of the length. I feel that same twinge riding off for a weekend in the IA bluffs as I do for a few weeks out west; a simple matter of degrees. It is the movement and vulnerability of being on two wheels. At the mercy of the weather and those around you. Being fully immersed in the experience. That can be anywhere at anytime.
Learned a lot on this ride. Most importantly was that it was possible. Subsequent years brought me to the Pacific a few times.
Now, reading so many great ride reports from others, I know even more is possible. When the time is there, Alaska or Baja are goals. For now, I'll take anything available. To move, to ride.
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